Death and the Good Citizen
by karrenia
Summary: Tommy Gavin is seeing ghosts of people that he could not save: but is this a case of a mental breakdown or is there more to these spectral visitations?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Rescue Me is the creation of Dennis Leary and belongs to the FX television network and its producers and director. The story references events from the 1st season episode "Guts." Written for Carolyn in the Yuletide New Year Resolutions 2006 Project 

"Death and the Good Citizen"

Tommy Gavin has made up his mind regarding a way to justify all of the pain inside. It's his gut reaction shying away from human affection.

At least that's what his attorney told him after the latest hearing about his wife wanting to file for divorce as soon as possible. If he had been asked for his opinion on the matter, which he was not asked, he would term more of a fight versus flight reaction. He is more than capable of mixing it up with the best of them so even during a fight when the odds were against him, he would never flinch, but ah, emotions, sensitivity, feelings, those are much harder.

His wife said it was fear of commitment and she just may have scored a point on that subject. However, he is as committed as they come when it comes to his profession as a firefighter, after all they save lives at considerable risk to their own well-being, so aside from the personal cost, it's the way he feels that matters, right?

Take his cousin, Jimmy, for starters. Jimmy was like a younger, more hopeful reflection of his own persona, while he'd dealt with trauma and the loss of the young man's death in the aftermath of 9/11. Tommy, on some level, realizes that Jimmy made his own choice to respond to the crisis in New York; he had made a decision that he could never take back; and it's not his fault that Jimmy died. It's all very logical. And it sucks like crazy also, because maybe if he had done something a little bit differently Jimmy might still be alive.

Tommy had been forced to redefine his definition of a hero; either a hero was somebody who saved lives, or somebody who did so at considerable cost to their own. It makes no to play the what-if this what-if game of second-guessing especially when his own personal life is so screwed up.

It's not that he wants to stop being a fire fighter. He likes his job, he enjoys the challenges presented to him or wait, and they call it being a first-responder now, isn't it? In any case, he has learned a technical term for what he's feeling, it's called survivor's guilt: 'Yeah right'. And he shoves the unwelcome thoughts to a nice dark corner of his mind.

All things considered he thinks he prefers the flight versus flight theory instead.

The only woman assigned to the station house recommended that Tommy seek a little professional help, and which he assumes is all a bunch of mumbo jumbo egghead nonsense.

He reads the newspapers; he knows what a crazy messed up place New York City can be. However, getting his head examined by a head shrink for an hour or so was definitely not on his list of a pleasant way to spend his off day.

And It's only when his odd visions begin to affect his performance on the job that maybe, and that's a very remote possibility, that that she might have a point.

Later that same evening Tommy woke up with his cotton sheets wadded up in a heap at the foot of his bed. Tommy realized that he has just had one of the most vivid dreams that he can recall on awakening. The dream is of falling from a very high place. That high place just happens to be the rooftop of a ten-story tenement in the blue-collar section of the city.

It 's cold up here and windy; even through the insulated lining of his yellow firefighter jacket the cold penetrates through to his skin. He shivers in the cold wind and reflexively pulls up the collar up around his nose and mouth. It's a mild winter based on previous ones, but at this altitude, and he still shivers, and can see his breath pluming the frosty air.

He wishes to be drunk; and then stops to think twice about it and he figures an alcohol-  
induced mental state would only make it worse.

"Cold day."

"Might have snow by the end of the week."

"Who's there?"

"Come now, I been gone for less than a month, it's cold in the ground, and my best buddy in the whole world has forgotten me already?"

"Jimmy is that you?" Tommy spun around, taking his focus off the spectacular view and equally interesting view of the long drop to the street below. He blinked and wiped the grit out of his eyes when he saw the figure leaning up against the brick chimney of the apartment building. The apparition's silk tie was askew, the rented tuxedo he'd been buried in crinkling around the elbow. The crease located in the same spot his shirts always had crinkledwhen Jimmy had been alive and breathing. "This isn't happening. I can't be seeing things."

"Why not? Wait. Don't answer that question. Let me tell you: because it's crazy, because it's logically it's impossible, that you're drunk and now you are hallucinating. Some things you just have to accept on faith, like how I can be visiting you even though strictly speaking, I'm not exactly alive.

It's weird, but there it is."

"Jimmy? Knock it off, I really don't need this right now." And I don't think if I was going to start seeing ghosts that I'd pick you to haunt me."

"Who were you expecting? Maybe your Friendly neighborhood Spiderman?"

"Tell me afterward why I liked your sense of humor?" Tommy snapped.

"Because I was the only one who laughed and got your jokes," Jimmy replied.

"How is it possible I'm having this conversation with a dead man?"

"Do you really want to go into that?" Jimmy titled his head to one side, that familiar devil-may-care grin on his face and the confident swagger back in his step. "I'm not really supposed to be here and telling you things concerning the afterlife, you know."

"I've heard ghosts haunt places that meant something to them in life. So I guess, I really do not need to know the particulars."

"You watch too many scary movies. What I came to say, is you need to stop worrying so much about things you can't change."

"You came back to tell me that?"

Jimmy grinned. "Yeah, don't look so surprised. I always was the one who listened to you, when no one else would. So you, gonna take my advice?"

"Okay, okay," Tommy replied, "I give up, I get it already."

"Good old Tommy Gavin. Given enough time and effort the light will shine through that thick skull of yours."

"I see said, the stubborn man," Tommy said. "Thanks, by the way."

"You are welcome. I have to go. My time is running out." Jimmy said and then vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.


	2. In for a Penny, In for a Pound

FIC (In for a Penny, In for a Pound) Rescue Me for geonncannon Title: In for a Penny, In for a Pound Author: Karen Fandom: FX's show Rescue Me starring Dennis Leary Recipient: geonncannon Request Details: http/ not sure if this is exactly what you were looking for, but I've wanted to 

Rating: G to PG

He walks the city streets lost in a determined funk, from day to day, when he's not on duty at the firehouse, in a determined funk. He's not out looking for trouble but it always seems to catch up to him like the proverbial lost puppy. It's been a while since that amuses Tommy. In a remote part of his mind, not clouded by alcholic fumes, he still has something to provided direction and determination in his life.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection by chance in the floor to ceiling windows of a department store the name of which fails to register on his mind. The face is still handsome as when he started out, if a little more careworn and lined with the advancing years. The ash blond hair is still long and fine, the eyes still icy blue. His wife, told him it was a face he would have to grow into, but that was a long time ago.

He clinches his fists, holding in the anger that boils under the surface of his skin.

Tommy simply can't figure why he seems to be angrier than usuall most of the time lately. Served up for yet another supsension for disorderly conduct should be the least of his worries, at least to his way of thinking. So without his family he is what is termed 'married to his profession.' 'There must be', he's thinking, 'a way to get it all back, there just has to ebe a way.'

Staring into the blackly liquid but empty eyes of the department store mannequin, an old phrase comes floating up from his memory, "You don't realize what you've lost til its gone" "Yeah, sing it, mates, sing it long and loud. Somehow those old sayings are truer than one might think."

A store clerk comes around from inside the building thinking he's a lost customer, "Can I help you, Sir?"

Tommy looks up and meets the other man's gaze, "Nah, just browsing, and continues his on his way.  
"In for a penny, in for a pound


	3. A Week in the Life of Tommy Gavin

Five things that could have happened to Tommy Gavin-by Karen Dragging himself out of bed at 5am in the morning, shaving, dressing, and all the daily rituals of making himself presentable before he was scheduled to clock in at the fire house, had become almost a robot -like routine.

And it was more than he could manage to not think of the lyrics of The Boss' classic song "Dancing in the Dark" that had been playing almost constantly in the break room ever since it had traveled down through the rumor mill and then be substantiated in fact, that their chief might actually be considering putting in for retirement. 

Tommy Gavin dragged himself to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and while he did, gave his reflection in the mirror above the sink a good hard look; not that he had ever been vain about his appearance, he figured he looked like a tough, no-nonsense, typical New York fire fighter, sure there were a few more fine lines around the edges of his blue eyes. He had acquired a few more dark circles from lack of sleep, a the hairline had begun to recede just a little, but taken all in all, Tommy liked what he saw in the mirror.  
The station house was still quiet when he arrived later that morning, and he liked it that way, less hassle to deal with, and first cup of coffee from the dispenser in the break room would be fresh.

From the moment that he walked into the restaurant, he knew without having to be told that his ex-wife would not be at all accommodating about re-renegotiating the terms of their separation, if it had been up to him, which he thought would be about as likely as him being able to afford the fancy cars the DA drove around town, Tommy would have dearly liked the answers to all the questions and scenarios that played through his mind at night, to what special thing he had or hadn't done to make him the fall guy for everything that had gone wrong, and made his life shot to hell and back. 

'Maybe if he had the answer to that question, and maybe, just maybe my wife will take him back, he'd get to the husband and father that I have always wanted to be, and not the jerk that his abrasive and let's be honest with ourselves while we're at it.'

Tommy thought about this in the back of his mind as he waited for the hostess to escort him to the booth that had been reserved, and then place the menus on the table before the woman moved back to the front entrance of the restaurant. 'You've been a jerk, rough edges aside, life is about making choices, and you track record in that department has been, to put it mildly, less than stellar.

His wife came in late, looking as beautiful and incredible as ever, and for the first time in a long while, Tommy thought, maybe, just maybe this might actually work, just give us this one night together, without it dissolving into a shouting, fighting match.

"You're looking good," Tommy said aloud, by way of greeting, fumbling around, standing up and offering her an outstretched hand to shake. Like they were casual acquaintances instead of husband and wife.

"I'd say the same of you," she replied, shaking his hand and then took her seat across from him. "Tommy, look, this isn't easy for me, despite what you might think, and to be fair, this isn't easy for either of us.'

"Damn it!" Tommy shouted and then glanced around at the table, wanting to shake something or hit something, he had been sorry about that outburst so early on; maybe he was a jerk, maybe he was overly competitive but he really did want to try and patch things up with her. He loved her, didn't he? Well didn't he?

A few days later, after he had left gone home to stash the packet of legal documents on the crowded coffee table among the other paperwork, glossy magazines and sundry piles on the table surface. Tommy wanted nothing more than to sink back into the cushions of his favorite chair and knock back more than a few bottles of beer.

The Police Chief was a moron, and despite several warnings and the good advice of his friends, there was something about the man that he just could not resist going up and confronting. It was better than beer, if not better than sex, but that was getting ahead of himself.

The week had a been productive one if not in any way, shape or form and one that made much sense to anyone but him. He could tell by the looks and smiles in their eyes. Maybe there was something about the nature of the job they did, maybe he was the one who just screwed up. The job was what mattered, along with the men and the one woman that had joined their unit, that mattered to him. His personal problems, the alcoholism, the domestic issues, and what not aside, the job was the important thing, and looking at his reflection in the mirror late that Friday night, Tommy Gavin came to one conclusion; he can live with that. Life was good, but strange that way. 


End file.
